


Conversations in Reserve

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Dirty Talk, Episode: s01e08 The Last Patrol, Established Relationship, Fuckbuddies, Hair-pulling, M/M, Reunion Sex, Slut Shaming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 00:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: On the whole, Joe's pretty pissed at Web for being away from Easy for so long. He gets him alone to tell him just that, and things take a turn from there.





	Conversations in Reserve

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt: "It's a joke when Liebgott puts Webster over his knee. How much Web likes it is serious." May have wandered slightly off brief.
> 
> For a friend.
> 
> Please read the tags.

When Easy Company went into reserve behind Haguenau, they took over an old boarding school. Some GIs'd had it before them, and Third Battalion after that, so there wasn't much left to loot, but no one found much to complain about with digs that didn't have shells falling on them. Joe followed the rest of second platoon in, and looked around the dining hall where people were sacking out on the floor.

Not finding the offending pretty face, he demanded, "Anyone seen Webster?"

McClung shrugged. "I think he's up top." He jerked his head towards the door at the back of the hall.

"Course he is," Joe muttered, and grabbed a lamp from the stack by the door.

The door led to a stairway, and the stairway led to another stairway. Joe kept going, humping his barracks bag up and up the house, which hadn't seemed this tall from the outside. Finally, he found a narrow passage under the peak of the roof with a door at either end. He headed for the closed one and pushed his way in without knocking.

"What the fuck are you doing up here?" Joe demanded.

Web was kneeling next to the little round window, staring at the wet snow swirling through the growing darkness. There was a single bed with a thin mattress under one side of the slant of the roof, a little desk and spindly chair on the other, and not enough room to whip your dick out between them. The wallpaper had big yellow roses on it and was peeling off in strips.

"Malarkey said to bunk wherever we wanted," Webster said without turning. "You going to fight me for it, Liebgott?"

Joe made a point of looking around to room to make sure that he and Webster were talking about the same place. "For two inches of space that's cold as a witch's tits under a roof that probably leaks? Nah, Web, it's all yours."

Webster turned and sat on his ass with his back to the window. In the watery winter light, he looked more pale and tired than he had any right to, and the very idea of Web trying to play for sympathy pissed Joe off more than all those stairs had. Joe balled his hands into fists, waiting for whatever smug nonsense Web was going to come up with next.

"Then what the hell are you doing up here?" Webster demanded, trying to make a show of being territorial. "Why don't you go back down into the dining hall where it's nice and warm and everything smells like McClung's feet?"

Joe _very nearly_ commented on how Web didn't have the least right to comment on how anyone smelled when he'd never had to go over two months without a shower, but didn't let himself get distracted. He put the lamp down on the desk and took a step towards Webster.

"Well?" Web asked.

"I wanna see it," Joe spat.

Webster looked genuinely baffled. "What?"

Joe dropped to his knees in front of Webster and grabbed his right ankle, yanking Web's booted foot towards him. "I wanna see that million-dollar wound that kept you off the line for four fucking months."

"What? No!" Web tried to yank his leg back, but Joe had it with both hands and wasn't giving an inch. He tried to pull Webster's trousers out of the top of his boots, but that gave Web a chance to squirm around so he was on his hands and knees with his ass facing Joe. Web tried to scramble to his feet, but Joe grabbed his belt and threw his weight back so they both tumbled to the floor. "What the hell are you doing?" Webster demanded.

Joe ignored him. He still had a hold of Web's belt, and reached around to undo the buckle before yanking it out of the loops. The stupid pistol that Web insisted on carrying like he was a damn officer clattered to the floor, and Joe kicked it under the bed to get it out of play. Web was as slippery as an eel and twisted again so that he was lying chest to chest with Joe on the floor, their noses almost touching. Joe pushed Web's suspenders off before rolling over and dumping him on the floor.

It was easy after that. No matter how much Web struggled, Joe could just plant his knee in the small of Web's back and grind his face into the floor with his other hand. "Guarnere got shot in the leg after you did, shattered the bone, and he came back in time for Bastogne," Joe snarled. "Hell, Perco got shot in the ass a month ago, and he's back already. I ain't seen a paratrooper"—he grabbed the edge of Webster's trousers and yanked them down over his skinny hips, unintentionally pulling his skivvies down with them—"spend half the time in medical as you did, so I wanna see the wound."

"Fuck you," Webster growled, and tried to flip Joe off of him, but he was well and truly stuck. His bare ass was shockingly white. It'd been months since Joe had seen it, and a month before that since their last roll in the hay back in England.

"I gotta spank you to make you behave?" Joe demanded. He swatted Webster's ass just hard enough to sting.

"Guh," Web grunted. He went absolutely still under Joe's knee, and his pasty face flushed across his cheekbones. He breathed hard through his mouth.

Joe was about to resume pulling down Webster's trousers to get a look at that wound that had kept him away from Easy while his buddies were dying in the woods, when he noticed the way Web was lying. He had his legs parted a little, and his hips flat against the bare floorboards, and though he wasn't wriggling any more, he was shifting his hips back and forth just a little. He rubbing himself against the floor.

"No shit," Joe muttered. Not quite believing what was happening, he reached between Web's legs, pushed aside his balls, and gabbed his cock. "You getting off on this?"

"Fuck you," Webster said again, but he sounded more resigned than angry.

"You know? I might just do that." Joe was intrigued. All the messing around they'd done had just been kids stuff—grinding against each other, jerking off, the one time Web had lost a bet and sucked him off—they'd never even done thighs, let alone anything spicy. "It me holding you down, or me smacking your ass that's doing it?"

When Web stayed still in resentful silence, Joe gave his dick a squeeze to encourage him along. Web ground against his hand instinctively. His hands were flat against the floor as he'd been trying to push up to dislodge Joe, and now Joe could see his fingers curling, like a cat kneading a pillow before it sat down.

"You like that?" Joe asked. He hadn't come up here for this, but now that he thought of it, he hadn't had anyone's hand on his dick since Mourmelon, and he could use the relief. He gave Web's dick another squeeze. It was hard and warm under his touch, and the way Web whimpered and rubbed against him felt damn good.

"Clearly," Web muttered resentfully.

"Clearly, what?" Joe asked. "Smacked on the ass or fucked into the floor?" When Web didn't answer, Joe tried smacking him again. It was awkward and left handed, and had to avoid his own wrist, but even a glancing blow off Web's thigh made Web thrust into his hand. "You want more?" Joe asked. "'Cause I can give you more. Just have to ask."

Underneath him, Webster had stopped squirming, stopped even rubbing against Joe's hand, and seemed to be taking entirely too fucking long to think through what should be a simple proposition. Joe waited.

Web sighed hard enough to lift Joe's knee up a little and said, "Yeah, fine, if it gets you off of me."

"Great!" Joe said. He let go of Web's dick and hopped to his feet. The door to the room didn't have a lock on it, but he jammed the chair under the doorknob. It'd probably splinter if someone really pushed on it, but he was mostly counting on no one else being curious enough to climb all those stairs.

Web had crawled to his hands and knees by the time Joe was done. From that angle, Joe got a good view of bare ass and Web's cock holding up his trousers as they tried to fall down around his thighs.

Joe plonked down on the bed, leaning back as much as he could without cracking his head on the sloping ceiling. He patted his thigh like he was calling a dog and grinned up at Webster. "We going to do this, or what?"

The lamp gave off enough light to show how flushed Web's cheeks were, the colour having spread to cover his whole face. He had enough of a resentful look in his eyes that Joe was worried that he'd grab his bag and find somewhere else to sleep, just so that Joe wouldn't get the satisfaction of being right. Joe was pretty sure Web wanted to get off nearly as badly as Joe did. If he'd found any action in the replacement depots, it hadn't been the kind Joe was offering.

"Fine," Web muttered, like he was was the one doing Joe a favour.

He looked like he was going to sit down next to Joe, like they did when they jerked each other off, and Joe shook his head. "Oh, no," he said. "You go across my lap like the bad boy you are."

"You don't have to talk like that," Web said, but he leaned across Joe so that he could lie with across his lap with his ass in the air. Web hadn't pulled his pants up anywhere in there, and the chill of the room was making goosebumps all over his ass.

Joe ran his hand over Web's cheeks, then jerked his trousers down to expose the backs of his thighs too. "What'd I say about the cold up here?" he asked, neither expecting nor getting a reply. "Oh, well, I'll warm it up for you."

He put an open-palmed smack across the middle of Web's ass, catching both cheeks right above his hole. Web jerked in his lap and wiggled forward enough that his dick slotted between Joe's thighs. Joe parted his legs a little to give Web some room. His hand hurt, and he wasn't sure this was his idea of a good time, but Joe was a man of his word.

He gave Web another smack, right on the curve of his ass. The sound of skin on skin filled the whole room, loud enough for Joe to worry about it being heard on the floor below. Web whimpered and humped Joe's leg.

"You really like that, huh?" Joe said. "Remind you of getting paddled in that prep school of yours? Getting put across daddy's knee?"

"Now is _not_ the time to mention my father," Web said warmly enough that Joe figured he meant it.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe muttered. He smacked Webster hard across the tops of his thigh to shut him up. Webster yelped and squirmed. He was panting hard, and Joe's smacks were leaving pink marks on his skin. Joe rubbed his hand over one and Web moaned. "Huh," Joe said. The act itself wasn't doing much for him, but the result of Webster wriggling in his lap was starting to get some interest from his cock.

He laid the fourth smack on Webster's other thigh, and the fifth on the small of his back. All the breath left Web's body with that one, and he panted hard, rubbing his face against the blanket like he could get off on it. His hips rose and fell over Joe's thighs as he thrust against his own trousers.

Joe whacked him a couple more times, spreading the pink marks evenly across his ass and thighs. His hand was starting to sting pretty bad, so he decided to give himself a break. He nudged Web's leg off the edge of the bed and reached between Web's thighs to take his balls in his hand. He tugged hard enough for Web to make high, pained cry, but not so hard that Web stopped rutting into Lieb's lap.

"That's what you need, ain't it?" Joe asked. "Someone to hold you by the balls, show you who's boss."

"Isn't fucking you," Web muttered against the blanket.

Joe ignored him, but pulled up enough that if Web wanted to keep thrusting down between Joe's legs, it'd have to hurt. "You want me to let you get off," Joe said, voice almost sing song, "you gonna have to ask real nice."

"Jesus, Lieb," Web gasped. his hips were twitching, but he couldn't thrust any more, and he wasn't getting enough pressure between Joe's parted legs to get him anywhere. "Don't be a prick."

"It turns out that, 'Don't be a prick,' ain't the magic word," Joe said. This at least he was enjoying. Web's thighs were keeping his hand nice and warm, and Web was still wriggling enough that he kept rubbing his hip against Joe's cock. It wasn't enough for him to get off either, but it felt nice. Joe was half hard and enjoying the anticipation of a long, slow screw ahead. "Wanna try again?" he asked.

"Liebgott," Webster snapped, but he shut up when Joe gave his balls a sharp squeeze. "Fuck," he hissed. "All right. Please."

"Please what?" Joe asked. Web had folded faster than he'd imagined, and he didn't want to give up the game quite yet.

"Please keep... uh... keep spanking me." The last two words were muttered into the blanket, and Joe considered asking Web to repeat them, but he wasn't a total bastard.

Joe let go of Web's balls, and Web sighed and slumped forward. He was still hard as a rock between Joe's legs. "Now how many'd I give you?" Joe asked.

Web shook his head slightly, not having kept track.

"It was six or something," Joe said. "One there," he smacked the middle of Web's ass hard enough to make him grunt and almost wiggle off Joe's lap. "One there, one there, one to match that one." He tried to hit all the same spots as he had before, deepening the colour, and making Web yelp and whimper. He'd always been such a loud bastard, even just rubbing off on Joe, Web liked to put on a show. "One on your back, a couple here."

"God, please," Web groaned. He was thrusting frantically against Joe's thighs, desperately trying to bring himself off as Joe's hand rained down blows across his ass.

"So seven?" Joe asked, conversationally, "and fourteen now. I only ask cause I wanted to lay one on you for every week you missed. I owe a few more, then."

Webster half sobbed, but didn't stop humping Joe's lap. His face was red from lust, humiliation, and having rubbed against the blanket. He grunted low in his throat like an animal with each thrust.

Joe ran his hand over Web's ass, which was glowing a nice cheerful pink and warm to the touch. Webster was going to have a hell of a time sitting in the back of a truck the next day. Joe reeled back and got Web's ass as hard as he could, so hard that Web turned his face to the blanket and muffled a scream. He liked it though; his hips were starting to jerk out of control, and his hands kneaded the blanket the way they had the floor.

Joe had three more blows to put down, and he went rapid fire across Web's ass. Each smack shook Web's body, and after the final one, he lay panting and shaking in Joe's lap, almost crying from the pain and the pleasure. Web had come in his pants somewhere at the end there, and Joe didn't know which cry had been from that, and which had been from getting hit. Joe stroked down Web's back, over his as and as far down his thighs as he could reach.

"There you go. All done." He hadn't meant his tone to be this soft, but he didn't have enough cruelty in him to snarl at Web when he was this much of a mess. "You were gone eighteen weeks," Joe said.

Web shook again, and Joe was pretty sure it was a sob this time. He didn't know if it was from the pain or from the guilt of being in a nice warm replacement depot that whole time.

"I still wanna see your leg," Joe said. He tugged at the waist of Web's trousers, and Web tried to help by wriggling—or maybe stop Joe, it was difficult to tell—until he got them down past Webster's thighs. Web kicked them off after that, except they just got tangled in his boots, hobbling him. Joe felt down Web's right leg until he found the rough scar on his calf. Joe pulled Web's leg up to look. It was the exit wound from the shot, plus a surgical scar up and down the leg where they'd checked for shrapnel. He could feel the entry wound on Web's shin, off to one side so it'd missed the bone. Joe traced the shape of it with his fingertips, while Web lay breathing hard with his face pressed to the blanket. He was trembling. Was he afraid of what Joe would say?

For once, Joe didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask Web how he could have abandoned them for _that_, when Joe hadn't even left the line after getting shot in the neck, but he already knew the answer. Webster would do his duty and only his duty—no volunteering, no extra effort—and that was the way he was.

Only he'd volunteered to go on that patrol so that Joe didn't have to, and Joe still didn't know why. He wouldn't ask, either.

"Still hurts, sometimes," Webster said, his voice rough.

"Yeah?" Joe asked, still fingering the scar, but Web didn't answer. It didn't matter, anyway. "Come on," Joe said. "You owe me one." He smacked Web's ass lightly, and again Webster groaned like he'd just smelled a steak dinner after a month of K rations.

"You can screw me if you want," Web said.

Joe considered it. They'd never done that before, and the idea was appealing. Joe couldn't say he hadn't jerked off a time or two imagining what Webster's ass would feel like, what sounds he would make. Joe had thought he'd be a screamer even before their little adventure. "Maybe some other time. Wanna keep your mouth busy so Malarkey doesn't come up to see what the hell we're doing."

"Malarkey doesn't care," Webster said, which was probably true, but it was more of an observation than an argument.

Web rolled off Joe's lap onto the floor, then shuffled around until he was kneeling between Joe's legs. He ankles were still wrapped in his trousers and skivvies, and the floor had to be rough on his knees, but he didn't say anything about that, so neither did Joe. If there was one thing Webster was good at, it was complaining when he didn't like something.

Joe scooted forward so that he could spread his legs wider, and waited for Webster to make his move.

"You're going to be like that, are you?" Webster asked. He was looking up at Joe with his longer than regulation hair falling onto his forehead. Joe pushed it back with his fingers, then cupped the back of Webster's head and pulled Web's face down towards his crotch.

"Gonna be like that," he said.

Web fumbled his fly open and got Joe's cock out. It was hard but not aching, and shrank a little with the cold air.

"Better get your mouth on that fast," Joe said.

"Whatever," Web muttered, but he didn't play around with licking it or any of that shit. He rolled his shoulders like he was stepping into the ring with Bill Guarnere, then leaned in and sucked Joe down.

The feel of a hot mouth on his dick after months of doing without made Joe dizzy. He had to lean back onto on arm to keep from slumping over. His other hand he kept woven through Web's hair. He wasn't pushing Web down onto his dick, but he wasn't letting him go anywhere else either.

"Yeah, just like that," Joe moaned as Web pushed all the way down to the back of his mouth. Joe could feel his throat against the head of his cock, and wanted to keep going, but he didn't want to get up chucked on either. He settled for spreading his legs wider and tightening his hand in Web's hair. It was so damn smooth and soft. The softest, cleanest hair that Joe had seen since Mourmelon. As Web bobbed his head up, Joe stroked his fingers through it. "You should grow this out," he said. "I wanna wrap it around my dick and jerk off."

Webster grunted, but didn't stop slobbering his way up and down Joe's cock. Joe flexed his hips to try push in a little deeper, and Web stopped him by wrapping his fist around the base of his dick. It wasn't as hot as being in Web's throat, but it felt good to have his spit-slicked hand around Joe's dick while Web's mouth bobbed back down until his lips touched his own hand. Web's hand squeezed harder and followed his mouth up as he pulled away from Joe. He dragged over Joe's skin, exactly as hard as Joe liked it. Joe'd never been shy telling Web what he liked before, and it was paying off now.

"Good boy, Web. You remember how I like it," Joe told him. Web moaned at the praise and the sound vibrated through Joe's dick, making everything a hundred times better. Trying to get Web to keep making noises like that, Joe kept talking. "But you always were good at this, weren't you? If you weren't a rich schmuck, I'd say you put yourself through Harvard on your knees. Do they give out grades for sucking cock? I bet you'd get straight As. I bet people were lining up to try you out. You feel so damn good."

Joe kept trying to rock forward into Web's mouth, but Web moved with him, never letting him thrust too deep. Joe ground his teeth in frustration of how close he felt without getting to fuck Webster's face like he wanted. He tightened his hand in Web's hair and tried to pull his head down. Webster whimpered in pain, and Joe could see tears in the corners of his closed eyes, but he didn't give a quarter inch or stop moving up and down Joe's dick.

"That what you were doing at the replacement depot?" Joe asked. "You get so busy sucking dick you forgot about your buddies?"

Webster grunted angrily at that, and sucked harder, running his tongue up the bottom of Joe's cock. He scraped a little with his teeth on the way up that time, and Joe almost saw stars, but if Web thought that was going to shut Joe up...

"Maybe they wouldn't let you go, huh?" Joe asked. It took all his will to string his words together with that sweet, hot mouth working him like a professional, but unlike Webster, Joe had always appreciated a challenge. "The officers like your mouth too? They keep you there to fuck?" Joe could feel his balls tightening, and knew he wouldn't have much longer. He wanted Webster to know how much it hurt just to see him strolling up with a smile on his face, asking where his buddies were when anyone with two wits to rub together would have known the answer was in the fucking ground in Belgium.

Web had one hand on Joe's knee to balance himself, and his fingers were digging in like he was trying to talk with them, like he wanted to defend himself but couldn't with his mouthful of Joe's dick. He was almost growling, and it felt so damn good when it vibrated up Joe's cock.

"Then you come crawling back to me," Joe told him. He was still yanking at Web's hair, pulling his head back and forth as he bobbed up and down, frantically trying to get Joe off, just as Joe tried to hold on a second longer as his body started to crest the wave and plummet towards release. "'Cause once you've had my dick, there's nothing else as good, is there? You need to be filled by my, oh, fuck, that's good."

He came on the last word, thrusting up towards Web's face even as he pulled his hair forward, jamming Web's lips into his fist. He filled Webster's mouth, and come dribbled out of the corners of his lips and over his hand. Webster knelt and took it, trying to swallow as Joe clenched the blanket with one hand and Web's hair with the other. Joe threw his head back and closed his eyes, his vision going red as he did. He tried to get a hold of himself, but Web kept sucking his dick until he'd drained the last bit of come out of Joe.

Joe leaned forward and let go of Web's hair so that he could stroke it back from his face again. It felt so silky and smooth under Joe's hand that he wanted to bury his face in it and breath it in. "That's good," Joe said, his tone softening. It was hard to be mad at someone who gave that quality of service. "You're all right, Webster. Fuck, I missed your mouth."

Web pulled off Joe, rocking back on his heels to glare up at him. "And you're still a prick," he said. It was another statement, so Joe didn't argue with him. "Christ, you're full of yourself."

"And now you're full of me too." Joe grinned down at him, pleased to have been handed a line like that. The air was cold against his dick, so he tucked in and buttoned up instead of trying to get Web to do it for him.

"Prick," Web muttered again, and got up so he could get back into his pants. He mopped at his skivvies where he'd come in them, then shrugged and pulled them on anyway. When he'd buttoned up, he looked pointedly at Joe and said, "Thought you weren't going to fight me for that bunk."

Joe shrugged. "I think it's growing on me."

"Fuck you," Webster said, and sat down next to Joe, halfheartedly shoving at his shoulder. They both already had their bags up here, and they both knew that neither of them would be the first to move.

Joe didn't budge, just yawned and said, "Maybe next time, buddy." He bent and finessed the laces of his boots undone, though the mud frozen onto them had hardly melted. Once they were off, curling up onto the bed was just a matter of falling over and pulling the blanket up over himself. It took an extra yank to get it out from under Webster, but it moved eventually.

"Seriously?" Webster demanded. "You going to make me go back down there and bunk with the guys?"

"Who said anything about making you leave?" Joe asked. "It's too cold up here to sleep alone. Don't know what the fuck you were thinking."

Webster was still sitting on the edge of the bed, now half turned to look down at Joe with narrowed eyes, like he couldn't tell if Joe was serious, or this was some kind of trick. "What if Malarkey finds us?" he asked.

"Thought you said Malarkey doesn't care." Though how would Web know? He hadn't been the one who'd seen how many men made do to keep warm living in frozen holes in the ground, some of them with no boots, all of them with no winter coats. Joe flipped the edge of the blanket up and looked pointedly at the sliver of bed he'd left empty.

"All right, fine." Web turned out the lamp, then felt his way back to the bed. He took a minute to pull his boots off, then crawled into bed fully dressed just like Joe was. At least he hadn't lost that habit living behind the lines. If they got called in the middle of the night, they weren't going to be going out without their pants on. He lay on his side with his back to Joe, balanced on the very edge of the mattress, until Joe hooked his arm around Web's waist and pulled their bodies snugly together. The whole room felt warmer already.

Joe buried his nose in the silkiness of Web's hair and sighed softly, falling towards sleep.

"Did you really miss me, Joe?" Webster asked.

"Missed your mouth on my dick," Joe admitted. He rubbed his crotch against Web's ass and got a hiss of pain and return pressure in response. Joe was going to have to follow up on that little discovery next time he got the chance. "Missed how warm you were sharing a foxhole."

Webster snorted. "I'd warm your foxhole any time, Liebgott."

"You'd better," Joe said. He decided that he was going to make Web keep that promise.


End file.
